


The Great Escape

by Red Dragon (Red_Dragonn)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Depression, Drabble, Frigga Is Confused, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Like Loki, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Jötunn Loki, Loki Is In Jail, Loki Needs a Hug, Magic, No Porn, Other, Psychological Trauma, Sad Loki, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, The Apocalypse Might Happen, Thor Is A Bad Bro, Thor Is Not Stupid, What Was I Thinking?, or maybe not, why did i do this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dragonn/pseuds/Red%20Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm new to this so I don't know if I'm doing this wrong, but<br/>*deep breath*<br/>It's a song fic thingymajig about Loki Laufeyson somewhere in the time between Avengers and Thor: The Dark World.<br/>Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Escape

 

 

 

_Well, don't you say that I had a part of it  
I guess we'll never know_

Loki sat with his back to the wall, staring out the glass pane to the rest of Asgard’s highest-security prison.

It was noticeably better than the Chitauri one, to be sure, but still a dismal situation for a prince such as he.

 

_Or would you say that I had a part of it?_

Who, exactly, was there to lie to in this place? Loki, prince of monsters. Not fit for a throne. Not fit for anything.

_Well, I guess we'll never know_

Time crawled at a pace that suggested it had been crippled badly.

Of course, that was how time worked when one was not enjoying oneself. It was not the first time Loki had been imprisoned, even in Asgard—who could forget the scandal when they found out about Sleipnir, let alone Fenris? And Jormi? But this was the very first time it had been longer than a few months.

That was deserved.

No one could spare a monster to run around, wreaking havoc on everything he touched.

Monster.

Jotunn.

No matter how hard he tried, Loki couldn’t stop himself from feeling entitled to happiness.

 

_Constant recovery_

Breathing deeply, Loki pushed himself to his feet.

 

_I see you choke and it takes my breath away_

There was little to do in the cell; yet, there were books. Surely his family thought that some great mercy—“Oh, the great Prince Loki, renowned for his scholarship, surely would greatly appreciate three books!” It had been a long two years. And but seventeen short books. He’d read them all in less than a week. All were terribly tedious, the stories that a child might have liked—it was about the good Aesir, the manly warriors who fought the wicked, evil Jotnar, and how (of course) they won. Thor must have picked them out. He was about as clever as a child.

Thor is what you can never be. You have no right to insult him; he is superior to you.

Stupid monster. Thinks itself clever.

 

  
_But all is good, we close our eyes_  
_They all accept the lie_

The clever, stupid monster-prince could not bring himself to seriously consider reading one of the books on the offending shelf, instead choosing to slink over to the other corner of the cell and stare at the wall.

You have got to get out of here, he thinks.  
What was that?  
You don’t deserve to get out of here.

Worthless. Undeserving. Greedy. Jotun.

 

_So bury what you are outside_

Loki instead stared at the wall more, forgetting to blink as he choked down his disgust. It had been years, and yet the prince could still not come to grips with the vile truths of his existence.

Spots danced in his vision, and he suddenly realized he’d been glaring at the wall for more than a full minute.

 

_Brother, promise you won't leave me_

What does it even matter? No one cared about him, anyway, other than Freyja. The only one who ever visited was the woman who raised him; the one who couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

That was fine.

He wouldn’t look at his face, either, even if he had a mirror. He knew what he would find there.

 

_I know you're tortured within_

He was ugly.

They would see the disguise, drawn and pale as it was.  
Pale skin, crisscrossed with faint scars.  
Long, lank black hair. Greasy. Requiring a better wash than the quick bath he was treated to once a week.  
Green eyes, empty from the void left by pain and twisted with the torturous boredom and white-hot dagger thoughts.

 

_And your eyes look hungry again_

But he couldn’t look in a mirror and see the lie any more.

It was a damned shame; he used to like his appearance.

But he knew better, now; he was hideous, one of the feral, hated Jotnar. A mindless beast, crazed, evil, good for nothing but being crushed under the boot of a worthy As warrior.

 

_But I'll never wander, my friend_

For a second, he chanced the thought that perhaps he was an exceptionally good-looking monster. Hah! Even if that were true, who would accept him? No one wants a beast in their bed.

 

_Will somebody believe this is suicide?_

With a sigh, he forced himself up again. Stir-crazy as ever, he started to pace the length of his cell for lack of another thing to do. Back and turn and back and turn and back. The motions empty and meaningless, not a use of energy for any reason other than to use it.

A waste of time for a waste of space.

Spelled out like that, Loki could nearly laugh.

It was disgusting, how low he’d fallen.

 

_Am I the only one that thinks that you should stay alive?_

In a sudden burst of anger, the once-god lashes out with a kick at the bookshelf, scattering papers and pieces of material as the helpless piece of furniture collapses onto the floor and splinters pitifully. Loki keeps kicking until the shards of glass and wood are scattered all over the floor of the cell.

 

_Oh, I became the shame that you backed up on the ropes to arm yourself and hide._

There is nothing wrong with him.

 

_And so I scream, "Mayday, I'm in trouble, send somebody on the double."_

Except for the parts that made him _him_ , of course.

  _Scratching at the floor inside my mind._

 

_They all accept the lie._

If they cut him, would he even bleed? Loki couldn’t remember the last time he saw the blood of a Jotunn; they seemed to cut clean and crisp.

That would be better.

Leave no memory of him  
leave no trace  
leave  
nothing  
none  
like he was never there at all  
if they wiped out his trace  
could he stop existing  
because then  
hurry up

 

_So bury what you are outside_

A piece of broken bookshelf pierced through the sole of his bare foot. The sharp,  
cold,  
sensation of pain was enough to focus his mind a bit more.

This is pathetic, Laufeyson.

Quit fretting like a foolish child.

Your mind is the last place your own, do not let them take it from you.

 

_Brother, please don't be afraid of me._

_They_ never tried to take his mind, yet that has been done.

Bad analogy; choose another. They cannot control your true thoughts. Even the mortal archer, the one the Thanos-mind had enslaved, still had control over his thoughts, emotions.

But why was Loki weak?

To let his mind run away with him?

 

 

_I know you're tortured within_

Ah, but you are broken, the traitorous voice reminded him. You are weak. You are a jotunn. Cowardly, weak, stupid, why are you surprised still? This is simple fact.

 

 

_And your eyes look hungry again_

The glass was still in his foot.

He couldn’t bring himself to care enough about his foot to take it out.

That would take...some kind of motivation, he guessed. But what possible motivation could there be to fix a beast like him of something so minor? All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put him to rights if they tried, so why deal with a scrape?

 

 

_But I'll never wander, my friend_

I wonder if they’ve forgotten you, or if you’re just too hard for them to look at.

 

 

_I let you down_

The glass in his foot felt more welcome by the second.

The pain seemed to be whiting out some of the anguished screaming from the corners of his mind.

That’s good, he supposed. I should have more pain.

 

 

_And I started to run_

This was probably a terrible idea and one that a true As would never have even imagined, Loki thought, dragging the jagged seven-inch blade of glass across the palm of his hand.

Nope, he realized. Definitely a good idea.

Harder to think.

Like mead, except without the foolishness attached.

 

 

_Never meant to be your pain.  
Oh my god, what have I become?_

I should do that again.

 

 

_Show me and show me the way back_

* * *

 

 

_Show me the way back home_

It had been a fairly long time since Thor had last spoken to his younger brother. After the fiasco in Midgard, he—though one would be hard-pressed to make him admit it—had been a bit afraid to face Loki and what he had become.

The man was scary.

 

_I know you're tortured within_

A little niggling voice in the back of the scarlet-caped prince’s mind told him that he owed a duty to Loki, that they were family.

That, of course, was drowned out by the copious amounts of mead, brandy, and other forms of alcohol that Thor used to get out of bed. And coupled with the everything he was meant to do, what with the tasks of princehood and all that...

...Well, it was a wonder that he ever even spoke with the Warriors Three, or the All-Father (whom he actually enjoyed the company of), let alone some prisoner in the cells that he might have grown up calling brother for the past thousand-or-so years.

Besides, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like the darker prince himself, you were ordered to avoid him, weren’t you? Just use that as your excuse. No one will care; you get away with far worse.

 

_And your eyes look hungry again_

And the terrible thing is, the rest of him agreed.

* * *

Scars on the blueness of a Jotunn’s skin tended towards the ‘nearly invisible and quickly healing’ kind.

After a month of cutting into his flesh on a near-daily basis, Loki was sure that his As form was rather close to looking like it had gone through a meat-grinder, and yet the Jotunn form was still as hideously pristine, ridged and unmarred as it had been.

 

_But I'll never wander, my friend  
No, I'll never wander again_

Just another cut.

Another way to numb the voices

to make them go away

 

_this is not what I want,_

with a tinge of some emotion  
it could have been fear  
loki didn’t know for sure  
the frost giant realized he was somewhat attached to the pain  
in such a way that  
it  
it  
it wasn’t really a coping mechanism any more

 

_But now it's what I need_

but more of an addiction

 

_Can I just have one more taste_

Who even cares about that? It's tantalizing, the voice of destruction.

It feels nice.

Let it be.

Keep going.

One more cut.

One more hurt.

 

_Just to make it through the day?_

The impromptu blade hovered over the inside of his elbow.

Come on, how hard can it be? Don’t think. Let it take away the thinking.

Let it take away all of the problems.

You know they're better off without you.

 

_You're tangled in_  

 

* * *

A nameless apprehension filled the warrior’s heart as she and her party set back towards the city after a rare day of good, clean, hunting fun.

She shivered despite the summer heat.

Relax, for all is well.

Yet something inside knew it was not.

Or perhaps she was just feeling the aftermath of the hunt; bilgesnipe were, in fact, dangerous prey.

In Asgard, Lady Sif paid the warning no heed.

* * *

The man felt a panic set root into his heart and grow there, as he finished hanging up and putting away his tools.

A quick succession of phone calls later, he was able to assuage his rising fears. His team was safe. His friends were safe. The people he cared about—they were all safe.

All seemed right with the world.

In Midgard, Tony Stark paid the warning no heed.

* * *

The woman was visiting with her family when she felt a terrible fear take hold of her, one unnatural in origin and in practice. This meant death.

She made her farewells hurriedly and left, terrified at what the meaning of this could be. For all she knew, this should have been impossible—she had made it impossible—but what else of a reason could there be?

With the first possible chance she departed for another realm, of fire and death. The world Muspellheim, to ascertain that that one still was bound and tied, securely enough to outlast his entire planet and all life upon it.

In Vanaheim, Lady Frigga understood the warning all too well.

* * *

 

 

_You're tangled in the great escape_

Loki’s shaking hand slipped as he yanked the glass away from his leg.

 

_Can I just have one more taste?_

This was unexpected—

It was—

What? 

 

_Great escape, oh_

It appeared that Jotnar only ever bled from mortal wounds. 

 

_I never meant to hurt nobody, no, no, yeah_

Such as the one severing the rather large and hard-to-see artery in the soft inner part of his thigh.

 

_I never meant to hurt you, no, no, no, no_

* * *

He felt the pressure build. Uncomfortable. It got to a point that he couldn’t bear—he ripped off is shirt and mail, trying to understand why it felt like something coiled in his chest was pushing out—he couldn’t breathe—and he knew without a doubt something was desperately wrong, wrong, wrONG, WRONG, WRONG—

Thor collapsed, and knew no more.

* * *

She felt the pressure build. Behind even her suit, it was hot and vicious, she couldn’t stand it—it felt like she was having a heart attack—he called an ambulance, bent over on her hands and knees outside the tower—they came, but nothing was wrong with her—but there was something wrong, she could feel it—she couldn’t breathe—the paramedics were panicking suddenly—what was so incredibly wrong, wrong, wroNG, WRONG, WRONG—

Hela collapsed, and knew no more.

* * *

He felt the pressure build. The magical signal hurt to even look at—it was bright—it hurt—and it pushed at his chest like a hand inside—he was sure he was going to die—it was so wrong, wrong, wrong, wronG, WRONG—

Odin collapsed, and knew no more.

* * *

 

 

_I only meant to do this to myself, to myself, to myself_

The life leached out of him through the ice liquid seeping out of his legs.

The thoughts would stop, now, would they not?

 

_Escape_

Loki collapsed, and knew no more.

 

_Great escape_

It appeared that his end was not to be, yet, for there was a bright light shining hard onto Loki’s face and a chemical-and-blood reek that reminded him of the healers’ rooms and a panicked Hogun next to him—not him, the dark-haired Vanr was facing towards another bed—WHAT WAS GOING ON?!

He managed a feeble croak.

“What—what happened—”

The silver-tongued liesmith’s voice failed him then, but the Vanr heard.

“Prince Loki! How dare you—what did you do to Thor? And Odin and Frigga and Sif?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Hogun roared

 

_Great escape  
Oh, great escape_

What did I do? 

 

_Let me out of this, yeah_  

I tried to do...

_Let me out of this, yeah_

...what they were too afraid to do for me. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well I couldn't figure out a way to put it in there but basically, since they kept Loki from dying, Sif and Odin and Frigga and Thor and Tony (yes, I am in fact a FrostIron shipper. So shoot me. It's in my nature) and everyone who Loki ever loved in any way were also kind of fine. Except that Loki wasn't allowed any more broken glass in the end.


End file.
